


Pushed

by leavethesky



Category: Fringe (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavethesky/pseuds/leavethesky
Summary: "Olivia knew the bar, had been there once before following a suspect. It was relatively upscale with a mixed clientele (gay and straight) and a decent layout, but the whole thing felt wrong. She thought for a moment about calling Broyles to ask him again why she was there, but decided against it. Something about the entire conversation had been...off. Broyles seemed reluctant about the order or maybe angry and snapped at her relatively benign, procedural questions. But he was her boss and she trusted him and he’d told her that this woman, Josephine ‘Josie’ Scarlotti, standing behind the bar calmly pouring Olivia's scotch, was a threat. Not just a threat, an assassin responsible for several recent deaths and possibly she was someone from 'over there'."





	1. Chapter 1

Olivia knew the bar, had been there once before following a suspect. It was relatively upscale with a mixed clientele (gay and straight) and a decent layout, but the whole thing felt wrong. She thought for a moment about calling Broyles to ask him again why she was there, but decided against it. Something about the entire conversation had been...off. Broyles seemed reluctant about the order or maybe angry and snapped at her relatively benign, procedural questions. But he was her boss and she trusted him and he’d told her that this woman, Josie Scarlotti, standing behind the bar calmly pouring Olivia's scotch, was a threat. Not just a threat, an assassin responsible for several recent deaths and possibly she was someone from 'over there'. Worse, she seemed to have some sort of power or psychic influence over people around her. A lot like Justin, but much more powerful than he could ever hope to be and not limited to emotions. She could push people’s will.

Whether this woman was a murderer or not, whatever she was, she was a perfect bartender, unobtrusive, attentive but not enough to be a bother. No unwanted flirtation, no annoying chit chat, just a polite exchange of Olivia's order and the efficient fulfillment of it. Olivia was so used to being chatted up and hit on by both men and women that it was a welcome surprise.There had been a moment of what Olivia thought was possible recognition when she sat down, but the woman had quickly covered it if it had been there at all. 

Scarlotti moved gracefully to fill another order and Olivia noticed a tattoo sneaking out from under her perfectly starched tuxedo shirt. It was such a strange combination or contrast -- the dark black lines of the tattoo on her pale forearm against the crisp white line of the shirt -- that Olivia stopped analyzing the situation in the bar for almost a full minute wondering what those lines added up to when the entire design was visible.

Until another customer moved to the bar and Scarlotti suddenly tensed, the muscles in her jaw clenching and unclenching, but there was no other sign of distress as she began filling his order. Olivia tried to cover her surprise by taking a sip of her scotch. Agent Sark stood at the bar waiting for Scarlotti. He actually winked at Olivia before accepting his drink and taking a seat and Olivia looked down momentarily in disgust. His smile for Scarlotti was enormous and flirtatious as he set a fifty on the bar. Scarlotti didn't smile Olivia noticed, but made change efficiently and moved on to other customers.

Olivia wanted to speak to Sark, to ask him why he was here and why she hadn't been informed, but she didn't want to draw attention to herself particularly after Scarlotti's reaction to him. Did they know each other? Or did her powers give her some insight into Sark's identity and personality, a personality Olivia had never managed to warm to. There was nothing overt she could pinpoint and everyone else seemed to find him charming and capable, but he had always rubbed Olivia the wrong way. Always questioning her in front of others about her judgement and the details of her cases even though he was junior to Olivia and had almost no experience in the field. Maybe Broyles had sent Olivia here to oversee Sark? 

If it was an op and Broyles hadn't told her there should be other agents in the bar. Olivia  shifted in her chair to discreetly check out the tables nearby. A few scattered business men and women obviously winding down after work, and one table with a woman she recognized. She couldn't see the other woman at the table whose back was to Olivia, but she seemed familiar. So that made at least three agents in the bar not including herself.

Olivia finished off her scotch in one long swallow and raised a hand for Scarlotti. Even though she was waiting on another woman at the bar, a woman who seemed very interested in getting to know her, Scarlotti raised a hand discreetly to let Olivia know she had seen her. Olivia watched with growing amusement and not a little irritation on Scarlotti's behalf as she efficiently filled the woman’s order and very nicely deflected what looked to be an overt and rather aggressive pass. Olivia took the time to study Scarlotti. She was attractive if androgynous with her short dark hair and bright smile, but Olivia couldn't see why so many people seemed drawn to her. She wasn't attractive in that TV actress, plastic way that seemed  so popular, but there was definitely something about her. A memory of her mother telling Olivia she'd be pretty if she just wore some makeup and tried harder made her wince and she understood what was so different about Scarlotti: She wasn’t trying to be pretty, but in that way of supermodels and rockstars, her not-your-girl-next-door looks and unassuming self-confidence made her attractive.

"Another scotch?" Scarlotti asked, her voice smooth, but not in a way that felt practiced.

Olivia nodded and Scarlotti turned away to retrieve the bottle. Scarlotti's back suddenly went rigid and she stopped abruptly before hesitantly resuming her stride. But Olivia could feel that something had happened. Nothing seemed different in the bar just that strange, crawling sensation that made everything in Olivia go into a state of high alert. Scarlotti's jaw was clenched again, but she gave nothing away except a quick glance at something in the mirror behind the bar. Sark. Scarlotti had glanced at Sark who, Olivia noticed, was clutching his empty drink with white knuckles, his jaw clenched as well. 

Scarlotti returned with Olivia's scotch in a new glass and napkin and placed them in front of Olivia before picking up the old rather than just refilling her glass.

"I thought you were the other one at first," Scarlotti mumbled and turned away to fill another order as if she hadn't said anything at all. 

To cover her surprise, Olivia picked up her scotch and noticed something written on the napkin: 'Sark is a pusher.’

It took her a moment to parse that, to figure out that Scarlotti hadn't meant drugs. Which was crazy, but it might explain why Broyles had been behaving so strangely, why there were so many agents in this bar without an official op. If it was true. If it wasn't true and Scarlotti was the pusher as Broyles had hinted...why hadn't she pushed Olivia? She thought briefly of Simon who couldn't read her mind thanks to cortexafan. Was Scarlotti pushing Sark? Then why had Broyles sent her here? Had Scarlotti somehow found a way to Broyles?

Olivia forced herself to take a drink and tried to work out what was happening in the bar without overtly staring at the other agents. She did, however, discreetly free her weapon. It took her a moment to realize that the bar had gone silent except for the quiet, orderly exit of everyone but the agents and the bartender. Even Scarlotti's admirer reluctantly set her drink down and followed the stream of patrons, her eyes glazed and dead like everyone else’s but still that smile. 

"She's a pusher," Sark said to Olivia, his voice tight and angry. "Kill her before she kills everyone in here." He drew his weapon as Olivia reached for hers. His hand was shaking as he pointed his Glock at Olivia.

Olivia kept her weapon on Sark but looked back and forth between him and Scarlotti.

"Lopez!" Olivia shouted at one of the other agents, but they didn't move, too busy smiling at each other.

"He can't push you. Neither can I," Scarlotti said through clenched teeth. "He set me up because I won't do what he wants."

Lopez stood abruptly and pulled her weapon on the other agent at the table, Smythe, who stood and trained her weapon on Lopez. Both of them were shaking and Smythe started crying.

"Did you want to sleep with him?" Scarlotti said suddenly, her voice revealing the invisible strain of pushing or whatever she was doing. "Smythe? He pushed you. You would never have slept with him if he hadn't."

"No," Smythe said and began sobbing, her gun still trained on Lopez. 

"Shutup!" Sark said and trained his weapon on Scarlotti. "She's pushing you!" Sark yelled over his shoulder, but Smythe gritted her teeth and her hand shook as if she was trying to move her weapon away from Lopez to a new target.

Olivia moved her weapon from Sark to Scarlotti and Sark smiled. There was something about that smile, something smug that made her sick, but Olivia had no choice. Sark was a fellow agent and she had to take his word against this nobody bartender. 

"How are you able to talk about her, hold your gun on her? If she's a pusher?" Olivia asked Sark. He shook as his weapon moved away from Scarlotti back to Olivia. 

"Because he's a pusher too," someone said and Olivia realized that it was the woman who had made a pass at Scarlotti. She was standing just inside the door, but her voice sounded strange and Olivia realized that it was Scarlotti speaking through her. "And he's pushing those agents. They'll shoot each other soon," she said then turned and walked out the door. 

"Shoot her!" Sark shouted. "Before she makes me shoot you!" This was all moving too fast.

"Put your weapon down," Olivia ordered, but his weapon steadied, his finger tightening on the trigger.

"No," Scarlotti said under her breath and Olivia noticed a thin line of blood running from her nose.

"Oh God, please no," Lopez begged and Olivia could see that her finger was moving to the trigger. 

"I'm sorry. It's not me. Please," Smythe sobbed and Olivia closed her eyes. It was an impossible situation. She thought suddenly of her dead sister, Sam, and realized that there was no rational way out of this situation. Olivia was going to have to trust her gut. She opened her eyes, positioned her weapon, and pulled the trigger.

Scarlotti slumped to the floor behind the bar as Sark's weapon clattered to the tiles, a red stain blooming on his shoulder. He would live.


	2. Chapter 2

"Call the EMTs," Olivia barked at Lopez and Smythe who were now crying in each other's arms, their weapons still in hand. They broke away from each other reluctantly so Lopez could grab her cell phone as Olivia leaned over Sark. His nose was bleeding too, she realized and wondered if that meant something. Someone handed her a clean bar towel and Olivia looked up at Scarlotti who held another blood-stained towel to her nose. 

"Don't leave," Olivia commanded Scarlotti who nodded and slumped onto a barstool obviously exhausted from her ordeal with Sark.

"Fucking bitch. You ruined everything," Sark muttered. Olivia thought he was speaking to her, but when she turned to put the bar towel on his shoulder and apply pressure, he was staring at Scarlotti. 

"He's doing it again," Smythe yelped as her gun swung around. "No," she said and shakily wrestled it to point at the floor. 

Olivia pointed her Glock at the center of Sark's forehead and pulled back the hammer. 

"Try it again and you're dead."

"Kill him," Smythe said as she wiped awkwardly at the tears on her face. "You can't put him in prison. He'll just get out and keep doing it."

"I can't," Olivia said, shaking her head with something like regret. "Don't worry. There are places for people like him," she said with a determined look for Sark.

"You don't know what he did to me," Smythe said as more tears coursed down her cheeks. "Bastard." Lopez shut her phone and moved to pull a now crying Smythe into her arms.

"It's okay," Lopez whispered. 

"You wanted it," Sark said through clenched teeth and Olivia almost shot him. "She's twisted your thoughts."

"Rapist!" Smythe yelled. Lopez held her back, but Olivia could tell that they both wanted to shoot him. 

Olivia closed her eyes and took a deep breath hoping to clear her mind. She wanted to shoot him too. She knew Smythe was right. Sark would never stop and his power was impossible to protect against. But she couldn't do it, couldn't shoot him in cold blood. That was part of who she was. Unfortunately at times. The ambulance arrived and she moved out of the way to let them attend to Sark. 

"Sedate him. He's dangerous," Olivia said and pulled out her credentials. The EMT looked at her like she was nuts, but nodded and pulled out a syringe. Olivia kept her gun on Sark until his body relaxed from the sedatives. 

"It's okay," Scarlotti whispered and Olivia looked up to find the other woman slumped against the bar, looking relaxed and thoroughly exhausted. "He's out." 

Olivia nodded her thanks and holstered her weapon, then went through the motions of securing the scene as much as she could. She knew she should be securing Scarlotti as well, but her gut was still telling her to trust the bartender, so she did. Her instincts had been dead right about everything tonight. Instead of cuffing Scarlotti, Olivia called Broyles and told him what had happened, warning him about Sark's abilities. He seemed surprised, but quickly became angry instead. 

"I'm assuming he couldn't push you because of your abilities," he said sounding simultaneously furious and relieved. She wondered what it felt like to realize someone had been in your thoughts, manipulating them. 

"Yeah," Olivia said and turned away from the bar to stare out the window. "I'd say that's a fair assumption."

"And the woman? Scarlotti? Does she need to be contained as well?" 

"She stopped him," Olivia said and realized she hadn't really answered his question. "No. Let me talk to her."

"You think that's safe?" he asked and Olivia could hear the disbelief in his voice.

"She had every opportunity to let us all kill each other." Olivia looked at the bar patrons milling around in front of the bar seeming confused and realized that Scarlotti had pushed them all out to protect them. "And there's the fact that she saved a bar full of people. And as soon as Sark was down, Smythe and Lopez were back in control of themselves." Olivia raised a hand to her forehead and watched the EMT's wheel Sark out on a gurney. She wanted to tell Broyles about Smythe's rape, but didn't feel like it was her place. "I'd like to keep her name out of anything official if possible. Maybe she can help us. And I don't want anyone finding out about her."

Broyles sighed and there was a long pause. "Alright. I'm trusting your judgement on this. But keep an eye on her," he said and hung up. 

Olivia paused before putting the phone in her pocket and turning to the bar where Scarlotti still sat slumped on the barstool. There were now black circles under her eyes and the blood stain on the towel continued to grow. She looked even more pale than before. Olivia glanced once at the two agents who were sitting close to each other whispering and headed behind the bar. She grabbed a clean bar towel and filled it with ice before rounding the bar to put the ice pack gently on the back of Scarlotti's neck. 

Scarlotti jumped then seemed to relax when she recognized Olivia. 

“Oh, yeah," she said, her eyes glazed. "Forgot. Thanks."

"Lopez. Smythe," Olivia said and Smythe and Lopez looked up. "I'm taking Ms. Scarlotti home. Broyles wants this kept quiet, okay?" she asked, keeping her voice soft and gentle. "I'm sorry," she began, but didn't know what to say. 

They both nodded and Smythe looked at Scarlotti. "Thank you. I don't know what you did, but," she paused and her voice cracked. "I know you did something to stop him. I could feel it. Thank you."

Scarlotti nodded once. "I'm sorry. For what he did to you," then winced as if in pain. Olivia gently took her arm. "If you ever want..." she began then trailed off, looking at the floor. "I can help you forget some of it. Or make it easier, farther away. Just let me know."

A tear tracked down Smythe's face, but she didn't look away, just nodded once. “Okay. Thanks.”

"You ready?" Olivia asked, hating to break the moment, but Scarlotti looked like she was about to faint.

"Yeah. My car's in back," Scarlotti said, her eyes still glazed as Olivia helped her to her feet.

"You're in no condition to drive," Olivia said softly. "I'll take you. Home.”

Scarlotti looked confused for a second then blinked once as if nodding or speaking required too much energy. 

"The owner's number and keys are behind the bar," Scarlotti said to Smythe and Lopez. "Could you call him?"

The agents nodded looking relieved to have some time to themselves or maybe it was the knowledge that none of their secrets would end up in an official file. Scarlotti leaned slightly on Olivia then seemed to think better of it and pulled away to walk unsteadily out the door on her own. 

They made the drive in silence. Scarlotti's eyes were closed and she slouched heavily against the car door, her forehead on the cool glass, the makeshift icepack sagging against her neck. Olivia thought she was asleep until she spoke quietly.

"It's the house with the red door," Scarlotti said and Olivia pulled over to park in front of a bungalow without comment. "Thanks for the ride," Scarlotti said and opened the door, only to nearly fall onto the sidewalk. She righted herself before Olivia could round the car to reach her, but she took Scarlotti's arm gently anyway.

"I'm fine, really," Scarlotti said, but her words were slightly slurred and she was unsteady on her feet. 

"I'm just going to make sure you get inside okay," Olivia said and walked slowly with her to the door where Scarlotti fumbled with her keys finally finding the right one. 

When the door opened, a giant shape leaped out at them and Olivia reacted instinctively, reaching for her gun.

"Hey, you big baby," Scarlotti said with real affection, petting an enormous pit bull mix whose paws on her chest made her stagger against Olivia. "I'm okay, sweetie, but I need to sit down," Scarlotti said, her voice still gentle, but with enough of a command to get the dog moving off of her.

Olivia moved her hand from her gun just in time to catch Scarlotti as she began to slump to the floor. Her arms went around the bartender as the big dog moved to sniff Olivia.

"Uh, does he bite?" Olivia asked, her voice wavering with the strain of holding Scarlotti.

"She won't bite you," Scarlotti said and Olivia held her hand out to be sniffed. It was immediately licked and Olivia smiled, but fought the urged to wipe her hand off on her pants. Instead, she half-carried Scarlotti to the sofa and practically fell onto it herself.

"Did you, um, push the dog?" Olivia asked when the formerly excited dog fell down at Scarlotti's feet, apparently content and  calm.

"No," Scarlotti said, her words slurring again. "She's just a sensitive girl, aren't you Olive?" Scarlotti's hand reached down to scratch the big dog's head. "'Sides' pushing is a major pain in the head, right girl?"

"Olive?" Olivia said with a frown.

"Yeah, bad bartender humor," Scarlotti said and smiled at Olivia. "But she goes by Ollie most of the time. Except when she's in trouble. Which is most of the time.” 

Olivia managed to smile back even though she was still unsure about the name coincidence. She reached out tentatively to scratch the big dog's ears then realized that she was sitting practically on top of the other woman where they had fallen onto the couch and moved away with a muttered apology. 

"Can I get you something?" Olivia asked, unsure of herself now that they were alone in Scarlotti's house. Olivia didn't feel like she could leave her when she was so unsteady. "What do you usually do when this happens?"

"You mean, when I get attacked by another pusher and a bunch of FBI agents with big guns and have to push a bar full of people outside so they don’t get killed?” Scarlotti said, but her weak smile let Olivia know that she was joking.

"Yeah," Olivia said and picked up the now soggy makeshift ice pack to keep it from leaking all over the vintage-looking leather couch and moved it to the glass surface of the coffee table. "When that happens."

Scarlotti laughed a little then groaned at the resulting pain.

"Tequila shots, ice, and sleep," Scarlotti said. "Tequila's in the cabinet next to the fridge. There are sodas if you want one. No scotch. Sorry."

"Still bartending?" Olivia joked as she rose to get the tequila and glasses. "I'd rather have the tequila, if that's okay."

"As long as you take a cab home," Scarlotti said softly and Olivia had to smile at the other woman who was still protecting strangers. Strangers who had recently pointed loaded weapons at her.

"I'll be okay," Olivia said. She busied herself finding the tequila, glasses, and one of multiple ice packs stocked in the freezer. The agent in her was studying the house, cataloging information to profile Scarlotti. Olivia smiled ruefully at herself. She couldn't seem to help it anymore. 

The cabinets were obviously vintage like the couch, sanded down to the original wood and the counters weren't the trendy marble that everyone seemed to have, but some sort of  dark stone in one giant slab. Concrete, she realized, polished smooth and solid. The shot glasses were the wobbly glass of hand-blown, all of them mismatched, and the tequila was pretty top shelf. 

She carried everything out and held out a hand to Scarlotti who accepted it with a quizzical smile. 

Olivia held the ice pack up before reaching around to place it on Scarlotti's neck. 

"The bleeding's stopped," Olivia said and Scarlotti leaned back into the couch with a sigh.

"I guess I look pretty awful," Scarlotti said without opening her eyes and began pulling at her bowtie, obviously trying to loosen or remove it.

Olivia studied her for a moment, noticing how pale she looked, how dark her eyelashes were against her skin, the dried blood still under her nose. Olivia used the wet end of the bar towel to gently clean up the dried blood and Scarlotti opened one eye to study her. 

"You do this for all the freaks you pull a gun on?" Scarlotti asked and continued to fuss with her bowtie. With a sigh and a smile, Olivia pushed her hands away and loosened the tie and the top button herself. When she was done, she sat there for a moment just staring at Scarlotti's pale upper chest or what little bit of it had been exposed when she unbuttoned the top button. The skin of it, the whiteness, seemed so impossibly fragile. She couldn't figure out what she was doing. This wasn't like her, following strangers home and undressing them. When she looked up, Scarlotti was watching her with an odd look on her face. They sat there for a moment, too close for Olivia's comfort, just looking at each other. Before Olivia could break away, Scarlotti smiled. 

"Am I presentable enough for my tequila shot now?" Scarlotti asked and Olivia smiled, grateful that the other woman had broken the tension.

"I think you'll do," Olivia said and reached for the bottle. She'd brought a lemon and some salt as well. "My turn to play bartender, I think."

Scarlotti did three shots in a row before falling heavily against the back of the couch again.

Olivia had only done two and now sat rolling the shot glass between her fingers as she studied the other woman.

"What did you mean when you said you thought I'd be the other one?" Olivia asked softly and looked down at the glass. 

"I thought you were the other one with red hair and bangs," Scarlotti whispered as if someone might overhear her. 

Olivia frowned and reminded herself that she was armed and that this woman couldn't push her. Cortexafan, she thought. Goddamn Walter. 

"Do you know her?" Olivia asked, careful to keep her tone soft, non-threatening.

"No," Scarlotti said and held out her shot glass to Olivia without opening her eyes. "Can I have another one, barkeep?"

Olivia chuckled and poured her another. 

"They've been stalking me," Scarlotti whispered. "I think. I keep dreaming about them. People keep coming into the bar with her in their head. The other you. It’s very confusing.”

Olivia handed her the shot and poured herself another. 

"How did you know we weren't the same woman?" Olivia asked, half afraid of the answer. How could this woman who didn't know her, tell the difference when Peter (and her own friends and coworkers) couldn't? Was it her ability?

Scarlotti shrugged. "I don't know. You just weren't."

"Something to do with you reading minds?" Olivia asked.

"I don't read minds," Scarlotti snapped then sighed. Her voice softened as she continued. "I mean, I get some stuff, the shape of things, but not that specific. I don't know how to explain it. Besides, you're way prettier." Her words were more slurred now and Olivia thought it was probably from the tequila rather than the incident at the bar.

Olivia poured another shot. She had decided to ignore the part about Scarlotti thinking she was prettier than her double. Doubles.

"You're totally spending the night here," Scarlotti said then seemed to realize how that statement could be misinterpreted. "On the couch, I mean. If you don't take a cab."

Olivia chuckled and poured another shot into Scarlotti's glass, before downing her own. 

"But I hardly know you," Olivia said with an overly flirtatious lilt to her voice and Scarlotti smiled, closing her eyes, shot glass pressed to her forehead.

"You know enough," Scarlotti said, her voice growing more distant and slurred. "I'm sure I know less about you, actually. Like why there are more than one of you. Twins? Triplets?” she murmured.

"Something like that," Olivia said. She stared at the tequila bottle and decided it had been too long since she'd really tied one on. She wasn't on call and the world could save itself

for one night. "She's from a parallel universe that's trying to destroy ours."

"Oh," Scarlotti said and opened one eye. "Wow."

"Yeah," Olivia laughed for the first time in forever. "Wow. I think it's time to get you into bed," she said, extending her hand to Scarlotti who stared at her hand for a moment before placing her cool fingers in Olivia's.

Olivia hauled Scarlotti to her feet and carefully guided her into the bedroom where she fell heavily onto the bed. There was an awkward moment when Olivia couldn't decide whether to undress Scarlotti, finally deciding to just remove her shoes. 

As she was leaving the room, Scarlotti's muffled voice stopped her in the doorway.

"Could you feed Ollie? Please?" 

"Sure," Olivia said and turned the light off. "Good night, Scarlotti."

"Good night Agent Dunham."

After feeding a very grateful Ollie, then letting her out for a few minutes in the fenced backyard after Ollie made it clear she should by going to the back door and giving Olivia a _look_ , Olivia sat on the couch and poured herself another shot. She thought briefly about going home to her lonely apartment and sighed. Downing the shot, she lay down lengthwise on the sofa and sighed again. It was very comfortable. She noticed for the first time that the room was lined with bookshelves that were practically sagging with the weight of so many books. They seemed to be on a variety of subjects, everything from fiction to physics with a slight majority going to philosophy. It was strange to find in the home of a professional bartender.

"You're being a snob, Olivia," she said with a snort and downed another shot.

Ollie lay down next to her and nudged her hand until Olivia scratched her ears. 

"Just for a minute then I'm going home," Olivia said.

*

Olivia woke to the smell of coffee and the warm glow of the sun just coming in through the front curtains.

"Damn," she said and brought her hands to her face, rubbing at her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, a cup of coffee was placed in her hands.

"I think that's my line," Scarlotti said and sat down in the nearby chair. "I mean, I have a hangover and a push-over."

"A push-over?" Olivia asked and reluctantly smiled.

"Official term for ‘pushing a bar full of people gives you an incredibly nasty headache'," Scarlotti said with a smug, overly affected nod of her head and Olivia actually chuckled. She took a sip of her coffee to hide her discomfort. She really wasn't a morning person. "Paybacks are a bitch."

"This is really good," Olivia said and took another sip. Scarlotti tipped her cup at Olivia but stayed silent, staring into her own coffee. She was wearing what had to be a favorite, well-worn navy turtleneck sweater and black jeans. Her hair was still damp and messy and her skin was flushed rather than the sickly pale of the night before. "I'm sorry I crashed on your couch."

Scarlotti shook her head. "Don't apologize. You got me home in one piece. I should be the one thanking you."

Olivia smiled again. "Well, I could bring up the fact that you saved my life in that bar," Olivia said and when Scarlotti opened her mouth to object, Olivia stopped her. "Or we could just agree that the feeling is mutual." 

Scarlotti smiled at that and nodded. Her smile faded and she took another sip. "Am I in trouble or anything?"

Olivia took another drink and stared into the dark liquid. The cup was obviously hand-made with a deep blue, irregular glaze and Olivia thought about all of the generic furniture and cups in her own apartment. Everything she had came from a catalog, making her feel like she didn't even live in her own life, like it was borrowed from someone else's dream of what a successful life should look like. Until a few years ago, she thought this made her successful. She wasn’t so sure anymore  Scarlotti's apartment was a collection of mismatched furniture that all came together somehow into something unique. It felt real. Human. In a way Olivia’s life didn’t anymore.

"No. You're not in trouble," Olivia said finally and looked at Scarlotti. The other woman did look better and Olivia could see now that her eyes were amber. She thought suddenly of a piece of jewelry she'd seen once in a museum, amber with a honeybee millions of years old trapped inside. As a child she had thought she could set it free if she could just get to the amber behind the glass and melt it in her hand like ice. She imagined the bee flying away leaving a pool of melted gold behind.

Scarlotti let out a long sigh of relief. "Good. I didn't really want to run again. I kinda like it here," she said looking around her house with a small smile.

"You've had to run before?" Olivia asked and Scarlotti stood up. She thought the other woman would avoid her question, but she returned with the coffee pot after refilling her own cup.

"Yeah. There are people who want me to do things," Scarlotti said and shrugged but didn't finish the sentence. She refilled Olivia's cup and set the pot down on the table. Olivia could imagine there were quite a few people who wanted Scarlotti's talents and she could imagine the horrible or just illegal things they wanted her to do. It made her think of Walter's 'experiments' all over again, but she didn't want to talk about that with Josie Scarlotti. They probably knew each other from that time, but she wanted to start over with Josie without all of that pain between them. "I want to have a life, you know?" Josie said so softly Olivia almost didn't hear her. She nodded. She knew all about that. Olivia wondered why she was suddenly in the span of a few minutes, thinking of this woman as 'Josie' rather than the less personal ‘Scarlotti.’

"Well, before you run next time, call me and I'll see what I can do. I have a gun and everything," Olivia said and took out her phone as Josie chuckled. They exchanged numbers and sat drinking coffee in the sun in comfortable silence. It was all so relaxed and pleasant that Olivia didn't feel uncomfortable for almost five minutes. Until her phone rang and she realized that she couldn't really explain what she was still doing there or why she'd spent the night in a stranger's house.

Olivia gave Josie an apologetic look and answered. Josie got up and Olivia heard her moving around the apartment as she talked to Peter who wanted to know all about the events at the bar. For some reason Olivia avoided all but the most generic details but Peter kept pressing until Olivia made some excuse and promised to stop by the lab. She ended the call and sat staring at the phone. It felt like her life wasn't hers anymore. Walter had taken her life when she was just a child and she was still following the trajectory he had set with all of its pain, helplessness, and disappointment. Even her stumbling relationship with Peter felt like something pre-ordained or at the very least orchestrated by someone or something other than herself. Like her life was a role she never auditioned for. She felt the familiar anger rise inside her and tried to put it back down without much success.

"Are you okay?" Josie asked softly and Olivia looked up to see that she had put on a worn leather jacket and was holding a leash. 

"Yeah," Olivia said and rose to stand in front of Josie. "Although I think I've seriously overstayed my welcome."

Josie smiled and shrugged. "It was nice to have coffee with someone." She looked away. "With you, I mean." 

Ollie nipped at the leash in Josie's hand and Olivia smiled. "It _was_ nice, wasn't it. Thank you."

"Any time," Josie said and snapped the leash onto a very excited Ollie's collar. 

"I may take you up on that," Olivia joked and received a blinding smile from Josie in return.

They left together and Olivia sat in the idling truck watching Josie and Ollie walk down the street for far too long. Shaking her head, she put the truck in gear and drove back to her apartment to shower and change into a crisp shirt and suit. She had an image to uphold after all.


	3. Chapter 3

It took a week and a truly horrific case to get Olivia to finally call Josie. Or maybe it was the fact that she'd run out of excuses for not calling her. When the other woman picked up, Olivia considered ending the call, but realized Josie knew her number. 

"Hey," Olivia said unsteadily, taking a sip of scotch. She was drinking alone in her apartment at one in the morning. 

"Hey Wonder Woman," Josie said and Olivia chuckled. "You okay?"

Olivia paused, suddenly suspicious, then relaxed. 

"I've been better, but I don't really want to talk about it," Olivia said. There was silence for a few moments then the soft sound of Josie's voice.

"That's probably healthier for me since you'd have to shoot me if you told me about your day," Josie said. "I mean, that's what you super secret agents do, isn't it?"

Olivia smiled and leaned back, resting her head against the back of the couch. All of her fears about calling Josie suddenly seemed ridiculous. 

"Did you need something?" Josie asked, suddenly serious.

"Just some info on where to get more of that coffee," Olivia said and it was Josie's turn to laugh. 

"No way, Agent Dunham. It takes a lot more than that to pry my secrets out of me," Josie said and Olivia found herself chuckling again, all of the muscles in her neck relaxing just a little. "Besides, this way I have something on you."

Olivia laughed out loud at that. "What do I have to do to get that information, Ms. Scarlotti?" Olivia realized too late that her tone sounded flirtatious. For a moment, her body went stiff with tension at the thought of any flirtation, but the soft, casual sound of Josie's chuckle eased some it. "You realize that we have ways of making you talk."

"Well, first of all, you'll have to start calling me Josie. That's what my friends call me," Josie said then paused and Olivia felt the silence grow. Josie must have realized that she had just implied that they might be friends and panicked. Olivia could almost feel her unease over the phone and felt inexplicably sad about it.

"And second?" Olivia asked hoping Josie would hear the implicit message. 

"I, um, well you could come over sometime for a second cup?" Josie's voice cracked slightly and when Olivia didn't respond immediately, she started again. "I'll probably crack if you show up early enough. Like any time before noon. Bartender's hours aren’t for morning people.”

Olivia couldn't help but laugh out loud and the rest of the conversation flowed comfortably, erasing some of the tension from the day. Feeling completely relaxed, Olivia was surprised when Josie announced with a yawn that they had been talking for two hours. Feeling that knot of tension return to her shoulders, Olivia got off the phone with a hasty promise to meet for coffee. Long after they had hung up, Olivia sat on the couch sipping her scotch and thinking about their conversation. She didn't call Josie or go over for coffee.

*  
It had been two weeks and Olivia hadn't called Josie. Just the thought of the other woman made her uncomfortable and worse, she didn't know why she felt uncomfortable. Because being with Josie and talking with her on the phone had been the most comfortable experience she had had in a while. No pressure, no expectations, just easy silences, funny stories, and acceptance. Maybe she felt guilty that she had something outside of Fringe Division, that she wanted something outside of Fringe. 

"Yeah, maybe," she muttered and checked her phone again.

"Expecting a call," Peter said with his ever-present smirk and something that smelled like suspicion. 

"No," Olivia said automatically, sounding defensive for no reason at all. They were sitting outside Walter's apartment. They were supposed to be talking about whatever it was between them or not between them. Instead they sat in a painfully awkward silence while Olivia hoped her phone would ring. It had been a truly terrible day (weren't all of them terrible anymore?) and Olivia wasn't in the mood for whatever this was. She'd almost been killed again and she just wanted to go home and have a drink. 

"Olivia," Peter began and Olivia closed her eyes, wincing at the patronizing tone of his voice. "Why don't you come inside. I really think we need to talk about this. You've been," he said but she cut him off.

"You know?" she said with a tired sigh and a smile. Peter looked shocked at the interruption and Olivia realized that he was the one who interrupted her all the time, never the other way around. "I'd really rather not do this tonight, Peter. I'm exhausted and I just, I really just want to go home."

He just stared at her for too long then smiled that little smile that Olivia was finding less and less attractive. She’d thought at first that it was flirtatious or coy, but she was beginning to see it differently. It was a smile that said he didn't care what she wanted and was about to try to talk her into whatever he wanted. A con artist’s smile.

"Are you sure?" he asked, but it wasn't really a question because he was already moving on. "Because I think you need to talk to someone. You've been really distant and I know you've had a hard," he continued and again she interrupted him.

"Peter. Please," Olivia said. She didn't want to hear from Peter what and who she was and what she needed and what she should be feeling. She was tired of having her self told to her by others.

Peter stared at her in disbelief and maybe a little hurt before nodding. "Okay. Okay, I get it." Olivia wasn't sure what he thought he got, but she didn't care at this point if it got him out of her car and got her home faster.

Olivia gave him another pained smile as he leaned over to kiss her. She thought it would be a kiss on the cheek, but of course it couldn't be that easy. Olivia pulled away as he tried to deepen the kiss she hadn't wanted.

"Peter," she said and put her hand on his chest. She turned away and started the truck to avoid the look of hurt on his face.

"Fine," he said and jerked open his door. "But someday we are going to actually talk about this," he said. 

Olivia just nodded at the windshield and swallowed every angry retort. She didn't want to continue this. She wanted...she didn't know what she wanted, but she knew she didn't want this. 

"I don't know what happened with you, but," Peter began, but Olivia had finally had enough.

"What happened is that I was kidnapped and tortured in another universe and no one even --" Olivia began, but of course, Peter interrupted.

"I already apologized for that Olivia! How many times - " Peter began his voice rising in volume, but Olivia stopped him.

"I don't want your fucking apologies and I don't really care anymore that you slept with her," Olivia yelled. "This isn't about you! I just," she said then deflated. "I don't think I want this anymore."

Peter looked shocked and confused. "Don't want what Olivia, because I have no idea what you're even talking about anymore. It's like you're not even the same person, like there was another switch and you're not even her."

"Exactly," Olivia said and Peter just stared at her, his face twisted in anger. “I’m not her."

Peter pulled back and straightened his posture. "Okay, well when you do figure out who you are and find yourself or whatever it is you think you're doing, why don't you have the real Olivia give me a call, okay? Because she? She might actually want to talk to me." The truck door slammed and Olivia's knuckles went white around the steering wheel. Part of her wanted to go after him and apologize and yell at him and everything that went with another argument, the other just wanted something else. But she didn't know what that something else was anymore. 

Peter tried the door and Olivia realized that the locks had engaged automatically. He knocked on the window when Olivia didn't unlock the door. She rolled down the window.

"Look, just...we've had a rough night. Why don't you come inside, Olivia," Peter said in that way she was sure he thought was charming. It almost sounded like an apology, but Olivia realized Peter never apologized. He was a professional at using words to get what he wanted. And for some reason he wanted Olivia without every giving her any indication as to why he did.

Olivia shook her head with a sad smile. “I’ve already told you I don’t want this. Good night, Peter."

She pushed the button to raise the window and put the car in gear without looking at him again.

It wasn't until she was idling in front of the bar that she realized where she had driven although she still wasn't quite sure why. She could just see Josie behind the bar through the darkened windows. With a sigh, she turned off the truck and let her head drop back against the headrest. 

"What am I doing?" she whispered and shook her head. "Something else," she said and climbed out of the truck, suddenly terrified, but feeling better, lighter. 

She pressed her elbow against her side to feel the familiar, comforting angles of her service weapon then rolled her eyes at herself. Only Olivia would find a gun comforting.

The bar was relatively empty, which wasn't surprising at midnight on a Tuesday. Olivia couldn't help but smile when Josie smiled at her from behind the bar and offered a discreet nod. She walked to the bar very conscious for some reason of every step she took. Every step, every breath and swing of her arms suddenly felt like it was full of meaning. Like she was talking to Josie in some language she didn't even understand yet, but maybe Josie did.

"Scotch?" Josie asked, still smiling and Olivia was ridiculously relieved to see that this smile was very different from the generic smile Josie handed out to all of her customers. She blushed at the realization and what it meant that she cared.

"I guess I'm pretty predictable," Olivia said then felt ridiculous. 

"Well, it was either that or tequila," Josie said, her grin widening even further as she turned to grab a glass and a bottle of top shelf scotch.

"Tequila's only for special occasions," Olivia said as Josie placed the glass in front of her and poured. 

"Oh really?" Josie raised her eyebrows playfully. "Now I feel special." 

Olivia chuckled and raised her glass to Josie who picked up her glass of soda water to raise against Olivia's. "Cheers," Olivia said and Josie nodded.

"To new friends," Josie said and Olivia blushed.

"I'm sorry I haven't called," Olivia began, but Josie stopped her, putting her hand on top of Olivia's

"You don't have to apologize," Josie said and Olivia looked up in surprise. "I know you're busy saving the world." Olivia chuckled and took a sip before turning her hand over to hold Josie's in hers. It was warm and soft but strong. She could see the outline of fragile veins under the pale skin.

"I'm used to apologizing for my job and for, well, everything," Olivia said trying not to apologize again. When she looked up, Josie was staring at their entwined hands, a soft, disbelieving smile on her face. The smile disappeared instantly and Olivia began to make excuses and withdraw her hand, but Josie held on. She looked up expecting some sort of discussion, but Josie's smile had transformed into her business mask as someone stepped up beside Olivia to order a drink. Josie squeezed Olivia's hand before withdrawing to take his order.

The scotch burned its way down Olivia's throat distracting her from her growing confusion and she watched Josie's efficient, graceful movements behind the bar, staring at the way her black pants flattered her slim shape, the way the muscles in her forearms shifted as she worked then blushed when she realized she was checking the other woman out. It had been a long time since she'd noticed another woman that way. 

"Can I buy you a drink?" a male voice said and Olivia suppressed a sigh.

"I'm with someone," Olivia said automatically, hoping to avoid an awkward confrontation. 

"Really?" the voice said and Olivia looked up into the face of a handsome businessman, his tie loosened. Any other night she might have been tempted, but tonight she just wanted this over with. "Because you came in alone and you look like you could use some company."

Olivia pasted on a fake smile. Why did everyone think they knew what she needed? She tried to think of a witty retort, but she was too tired to think of anything but insults that would just prolong their interaction.

"She's with me, Josh," Josie said and put her hand back on Olivia's. Olivia looked down at their hands and blushed again. 

"Yeah," Olivia said and looked back to the businessman, a full-blown smile on her face as she held Josie's hand in her own. "I'm with her."

The businessman took a deep breath as if he might say something, but let it out and raised a glass to them both before returning to the table full of his colleagues who had a laugh at his expense.

"Sorry about that," Josie said and began to remove her hand from Olivia's but Olivia held on. 

"You don't have to apologize," Olivia said and Josie smiled a little at the intentional echo of their earlier conversation. "I know you were just trying to save a damsel in distress." 

Josie's smile changed, becoming a little sad. "Not exactly," she said, but kept her hand in Olivia's. She pulled up a barstool behind the bar and licked her lips nervously.

"You don't think I'm a damsel in distress," Olivia said and took another sip of her scotch. 

"Hardly. You're the one with the badge and the gun," Josie said and Olivia chuckled. There were a few moments of silence as they just stared at each other. Finally, Josie looked away and Olivia wondered if she had seen what she wanted to see in Olivia's eyes or had been disappointed like everyone else. 

"I still have that information you wanted?" Josie said, her eyes still on the other side of the bar and Olivia remembered their flirtatious phone conversation about coffee. "Would you want to come over? For a coffee?" And there it was. Josie looked so nervous, so sure of rejection that Olivia suddenly felt very relaxed and sure of herself. 

"When do you get off work?" Olivia asked and Josie looked more surprised by her question and the implied consent in it than Olivia was. 

"Now," Josie said and gave a short wave to a man dressed just like her.

Olivia thought for a moment about making an excuse, sure that the other woman would accept graciously. Sure that she could even salvage a friendship with Josie if she did. but she didn't want to.

"Good," Olivia said and squeezed Josie's hand as she downed the rest of her scotch.


End file.
